


it's like i'm wasting your honor

by Kody (saturated)



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Book of Eli-esque, Loner Mike, M/M, Minor Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Minor Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Minor Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris, Post-Apocalypse, Potential violence, Semi Mute Bill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28906617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturated/pseuds/Kody
Summary: It was the utter disappointment in what could have been that Mike carried with him for 27 years. The sheer loneliness and grief for what he was supposed to be weighing on him like unbreathable air he walked alone through, fighting to find something to hold on to. Something, anything that would give him strength.---27 years post supervolcano, people are still trying to survive. Mike finds a familiar town with familiar people, and one of them feels like home.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon
Kudos: 3





	it's like i'm wasting your honor

**Author's Note:**

> This is vaguely inspired by Book of Eli because I love the landscape of it but also inspired by the idea of the supervolcano in Yellowstone??? I'm fascinated by stuff like this and how humanity would attempt to rebuild after such an awful event and of course I had to add some bike into it.

It was the utter disappointment in what could have been that Mike carried with him for 27 years. The sheer loneliness and grief for what he was supposed to be weighing on him like unbreathable air he walked alone through, fighting to find something to hold on to. Something, anything that would give him strength.

Although, he thinks to himself, that he had that strength already, a silent pride in his solitude as he walked through and around towns and camps filled with people more than willing to accept him, to take him in, to love him. But he kept trodding along as though those places didn’t exist. He was alone and that was the way it was supposed to be.

It had been 27 years since the world had gone to shit. Mike had only been 13 years old when it did, but it had struck him to his core. That’s about all he can remember at this point. He can remember the feeling of watching the news, of the entirety of North America preparing for the Yellowstone Caldera to erupt.

Even then, Mike knew how lucky he was to live in Maine, so far from the fatal zone, how lucky that his parents had that cellar where they loaded up on food and where they could safely avoid the ash that would spread through the atmosphere, effectively killing all of their crops and animals.

The three of them stayed there, slowly working their way out. They couldn’t stay in there forever.

It took a long time, a couple years before things felt safer and before they could spend longer than a couple hours above ground, and it was those long years when Mike learned how to be alone.

But what really tested his strength was when his parents died. There was nothing worse to a teenager than watching his parents die of something so preventable. At least, if they were in the normal world.

But what Mike had come to terms with then was that this was the normal world now. Maybe he had been blind to it when it was happening, but there was nothing left but people trying to survive. He could try to go to the capitol, to find someone, anyone that could help, but it was up to him now. And he knew that.

And so he walked.

Years and years alone on the road, passing through abandoned towns, towns rebuilt from the ground up, campsites and hideaways and gangs on the road just like him.

Perhaps he was going to screw with his lungs staying outside as much as he did, even with the masks and cloth and extra shirts wrapped around his face, but so be it. He was looking for something, though he couldn’t figure out what.

It wasn’t a home. Mike had one of those before and it didn’t make him happy. He had been offered one and all he could think about was running the other way.

It wasn’t love. There were plenty of vandals on the road, but for every one of them there were five people in makeshift communities ready to care for him until the day they died.

And it sure as hell wasn’t safety. Mike was more than capable of handling himself. He didn’t get bullied his entire childhood for nothing. His dad didn’t teach him fighting skills for them to go to waste.

So what was it? What the hell could he be looking for as he traipsed across the east coast, risking the elements to find it, but not even sure what it was?

Another town pops up in the distance. Another town filled with another set of wonderful people willing to give their love and homes to Mike, to make sure he didn’t have to keep walking, to make sure he had somewhere to exist. Mike would oblige for a couple weeks or maybe even a month to recharge, and without a word disappear in the middle of the night. He had more than learned his lesson about goodbyes.

There’s no one outside, but why would there be? Despite the time, the air still isn’t easy to breathe so they stay inside as much as possible. It wouldn’t surprise Mike if they had developed halls between buildings to avoid going outside as much as possible, just like other towns.

Mike attempted to locate something resembling a bar or a restaurant. That would be where most everyone is, maybe even their mayor if they had one.

He fumbled for the batteries in his pocket. He had tested them on an old toy he found and knew for a fact they worked. He held them between his fingers on the off-chance these people didn’t want Mike around.

It was towards the opposite side of town he found it, down the main street Mike had been walking through, peering down the couple other roads but seeing buildings falling apart and windows busted. No one lived there.

The door was heavy and padded around the edges and led into a small room with another door. A safety measure that Mike found not many people implemented, not only keeping out the harsh weather but also to vet every single person that entered the building.

It was as soon as the outside door closed that the inside one opened. The chain stopped it from opening too far.

“Don’t recognize you,” a voice said.

“Here for a drink of water,” Mike said, right to the point.

“Let me see you,” the voice said. 

Mike could barely see through the crack, seeing a man probably as tall as he was, but not much more. He pulled down his mask and pulled off his goggles and hat, letting whoever this was get a good look at him.

“Got a name?” the voice asked.

“Mike,” Mike said.

“A last name?”

“Nope.”

The voice paused a second before closing the door. Mike could hear the chain lock rattle before the door opened once again, but this time all the way.

Now Mike could see the man he had been talking to. He was almost as tall as Mike which was a feat seeing as Mike was pretty tall already, short cropped dusty hair and a layer of stubble. He had kind eyes behind his glare, a greeting Mike had met before.

“She’s going to want to meet you first,” the man said.

Mike couldn’t place it, but there was something familiar about this man, the way he spoke and held himself, like he had confidence he was afraid of using.

The guy nodded his head back into the place. “Come on.”

Mike followed him in, making note of the interior of what looked like an old bar and grill. People lounged around, some planning something over a map, some flipping through books and one at that same table tinkering with an old flashlight.

It was in the corner that someone caught Mike’s attention, a man hunched over a notebook, a pile of more sitting next to him, as he erratically wrote in it like the words would disappear if he didn’t get them on the paper at that moment.

The man looked up and met Mike’s eyes, a fire shooting through him, and then the guy leading Mike inside the building grabbed Mike’s arm and pulled him through a door into a staircase, stopping them there.

“I saw that,” the guy said. “Don’t look at him.”

“What are you talking about?” Mike asked.

“She won’t like you talking to him,” the guy explained, “so I’m stopping that now.”

Mike was used to the assumptions, the hostility. He was a stranger rolling into town, towns that usually had a set dynamic, a group of people that cared about each other and would die for each other. It wasn’t unusual for them to distrust Mike. He was an outsider. It was a defense mechanism, and Mike never took offense to it.

But today he did. He couldn’t even explain it.

“Why should I listen to you?” Mike said. “You haven’t even told me anything.”

The guy, though slightly taken aback, mostly looked impatient. “Fine. My name is Ben. Nice to meet you. I’m taking you to meet Beverly who’s in charge of everything. We all get a say but it helps to have the final say so and we all trust her with our lives. Stay away from that guy you looked at. And no, I’m not saying anything else on that.”

The guy, Ben, paused and crossed his arms, waiting for Mike to say something.

It was an air that Mike could respect, a guy who was doing his best to protect the things he cares about, and was honest about it. 

“Lead the way,” Mike said, hoping Ben would read his dejected tone as trust in whatever Ben was doing.

Ben took a second, and then continued up the stairs, stopping in front of the door and knocking in a pattern. Mike attempted to memorize it, but it was moot as he was never all that inclined in rhythm. He was more of a poetry guy anyway.

From inside the room, a faint “Come in,” could be heard.

Ben opened the door to a large office, a desk sitting opposite the door to the stairs. Off to the side was what looked like a living area with couches and a kitchen table where two men were silently playing a card game. One looked up through his glasses, eying Mike up and down taking him in.

Mike averted his gaze back to the desk, taking in the sight of the woman behind it, the soft sun from the outside bouncing off her red hair and making it glow.

Ben took Mike up to the desk. “This guy wants a glass of water.”

“Ha!” one of the guys said behind them. “Probably wants more than that.”

Mike looked behind him at the guy with glasses who made the comment. His card playing friend didn’t seem too pleased with his joke either.

“It’s your turn, Richie,” the other guy said.

“Oh, come on, Stanny,” the glasses guy, Richie, said. “Lighten up a little. You’re just mad you’re losing.” 

“You wish I was losing,” Stan said.

“Guys,” the woman, Beverly, called over, sternly shutting them up. “We have a guest.”

The two of them mumbled apologies into their hands of cards, and Beverly rolled her eyes as if this was a normal occurrence.

“I think Richie said it best,” Beverly said, “what else do you want?”

The air around her was powerful, but Mike could read her vulnerability as well. She didn’t get this position by only being a good leader and good with decisions, but because she genuinely cared about the people here, and whatever Mike said next would make or break his time here.

“You look familiar,” Mike said, unsure of where it came from.

“I’ve been told,” Beverly said, unamused.

Mike had forgotten what he was doing for a moment, the intruding thought of familiarity overtaking him in seeing this woman, in hearing the bickering between the guys playing cards, in the kindness of Ben.

In the bright blue eyes of the man in the corner.

But he had to stay on topic, or else it was obvious Beverly was going to turn him loose. She was clearly not a person to be trifled with and wouldn’t be afraid to let Mike die out there to make sure her people stayed safe. You couldn’t trust anyone, and he had to give her a reason to.

“I’m hoping for a glass of water and a meal,” Mike said, “and maybe a good night’s sleep if you’ll let me.”

Beverly leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, a certain grace exuding from the movement. “But do I want to let you?”

“I have something to offer you,” Mike said, preparing his case, “at least for the meal.”

“No,” Beverly stopped him. “I don’t want anything. I want to know if I can trust you.”

Mike wasn’t sure if he could trust her either. He had run into his fair share of calm, collected, and charismatic liars, and he hadn’t gotten good at recognizing them. But with Beverly, he couldn’t read her, and yet he was ready to trust her.

He undid his holster and dropped it on the desk, reached down into his boot and pulled out his knife, putting that on the desk too, as well as the small one and all the magazines in his jacket pocket.

Beverly examined the contents laid out before her, and then turned to Ben. “Go get him something to eat.”

Ben went off, back down the stairs.

Beverly turned back to Mike. “Name?”

“Mike.”

“Just Mike?” Beverly questioned.

“I have to learn to trust you too,” Mike lied, hoping to keep his ground.

“I can respect that,” Beverly said. “But I have some rules that I expect you to follow.”

Mike cocked his head, indicating that he was listening.

“One,” she started, “you seem like a well-built able-bodied person, so you contribute. Whatever we need.”

Mike smiled a little to himself. “I suppose you’re right about that first part. I’ll do whatever you need me to.”

Richie made a noise, and although Mike wasn’t looking, based on the sound he could see Stan smacking him on the arm.

“And two,” Beverly said, “you talk to only the people I let you talk to. And as of right now, that’s me and Ben.”

“What?” Richie said. “Not even wittle ol’ me?”

“No, Richard,” Beverly said, “not even you.”

“And what about people trying to talk to me?” Mike asked, thinking of the man downstairs.

“You politely tell them,” Beverly said, “that Bev said to stay away. And they will.”

And that was it. Two rules that seemed simple enough and someone to ask questions of that came off a lot nicer than Beverly did. Although Mike didn’t blame her for that, knowing the kind of things she likely had to do to keep the town safe.

Ben collected Mike and took him back downstairs where he ate in silence, the best meal he had had in a long time. It had been months since he had left the last group, a small encampment of people that were nice enough, but almost too nice, like they were scared of Mike and saying something wrong.

He didn’t want people to skirt around him, which made him appreciate Beverly’s rules, although he didn’t entirely agree with the second one. Contributing made sense. Mike was a strong guy and strong guys like him were hard to come by and a hot commodity. He could lift and push and hold things smaller people couldn’t. Of course, he would be expected to contribute to stay here.

But to only have two people to speak with seemed like an overreaction. It wasn’t like Mike was looking around for secrets about this place, but he also suspected that over time, Beverly would allow him to talk with more people. But he had to earn his place first.

Mike ate and studied the people around. The guy from before was gone, and Mike tried not to show that he was looking for him.

The sense of familiarity in the guy’s eyes, and in everyone here, was uncanny, and Mike couldn’t let it go. Maybe he couldn’t talk to him, but he could at least look him in the eyes again, to see what it was.

After he finished eating, Ben showed him to a small room that contained a bed and nothing else, leaving Mike there to rest for a little while before having to go off and work later in the evening.

It was solitude again, the ripe apple of Mike’s tree that he could easily reach and bite into. He breathed in the stale air of the windowless room, catching the high of loneliness that stigmatized him. How could something that was a part of him make people distrust him so much?

He had been alone for a long time. It never made him a threat before, although Mike was having a hard time remembering anything before this.

A knock at his door, likely Ben coming back to grab him for work.

But it wasn’t. It was  _ him. _

It was a shock of blue waves rushing through Mike’s body when he locked eyes with the man, the cold, brisk feeling of waking up in the early morning before the sun rose, before it was even peeking over the horizon.

“You know you’re not supposed to talk to me,” Mike said softly. “Beverly said so.”

The man opened his mouth, but nothing came out, so he closed it again. He scrunched his brow, obviously frustrated with himself.

“That was supposed to be a joke,” Mike said.

The guy shook his head. He opened his mouth to say something and shut it yet again.

Mike could almost feel what he was trying to say.  _ Hi, my name is... and it’s good to meet you. You felt that too, right? The connection? _

“Ben says I should stay away from you,” Mike offered.

The guy smiled softly as if to say  _ Of course, he did _ , and Mike lost his breath. Mike had never truly cared for someone other than his parents, and definitely hadn’t cared for anyone enough to stay anywhere.

“I’m Mike,” Mike said. He paused for a second, weighing his next decision. “Mike Hanlon.”

The guy stuck his hand out to shake, and Mike took it, feeling the piece of paper that had been handed off to him. The guy was careful to make sure that Mike had it, and when they let go of their hands, he left, walking down the hall with a purpose.

Mike considered calling after him, but decided against it, instead choosing to look at what he had been given.

_ My name is Bill. _

_ It’s hard to talk sometimes so I thought I would try but wrote this just in case. _

_ No, I don’t know why. Yes, I knew you would ask. Best I can tell is trauma. Or at least that’s what Eddie says. I can talk sometimes but it depends on how my brain feels that day. _

_ I hope it’s not bad for me to say you feel like someone I knew in a previous life. I think you felt it too based on the look on your face. _

_ Bev is a lot nicer than she comes off, I promise. _

_ Meet me out in the shed tonight. Maybe my voice will come when I know we’re alone. _

Mike read it over and over again, and when he had memorized the loops in Bill’s handwriting, he tucked it inside his pillowcase and waited patiently for Ben to grab him for work.

He decided he was going to do a good job today and get them to like him. He had to earn their trust if he wanted to stay awhile.


End file.
